A Butterfly At Noon Poem by James McLain
A Butterfly At Noon
Like her I came and left to soon
bent and frail of wing.
I tasted what I thought it was
sweet nectar before noon.
Inside a picture book I read
from whence it said they'd come.
Reposed in all there splendid grace
harmonic in their view.
Pictures move as time stands still
a lepidoptery.
Time moves often pictures caught
each movement of soft wings.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: green
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5/10/2024 9:53:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
